Stages
by temporaryinsanity91
Summary: Everyone knows the stages of grief. but in this situation, she is grieving... for herself. the stages of grief have become the stages of death. an outtake from With Dauntless Abandon. T for mature themes, violence, and language.
1. Denial

**Chapter 1: Denial**

* * *

><p>She's walking, the city lamps making her dark blonde hair glow orange, the air frosting her breath until it is visible. She is talking into her cell phone, her gloved hand waving animatedly as she argues with someone. She hisses and then stops in the middle of a word, listening for a second before growling a response. She is fiery, fierce.<p>

She is their next target.

He walks behind her, trying to imagine the color of her eyes. He won't get to see them until they arrive at their hiding place, though. He pinches the soft, dark hood between his index finger and thumb, waiting.

A car turns the corner, and he looks behind him for a moment. There they are. They pull over next to her, and he falls back, making sure to stay out of her sight as Eric smiles charmingly and asks for directions.

She brushes her hair away from her face. "I don't really know where that is. I'm sorry."

"Are you sure?" Eric insists, frowning. He looks genuinely lost. He's a chillingly good actor...

"Yeah," she starts.

He lifts the hood, prepared. He steps forward quickly, standing directly behind her.

"I've never been there before. But if you'd like, I can—" she breaks off in a scream as he puts the hood over her head, enveloping her in darkness. The door of the van opens, and they haul her inside.

He kneels on her back, right between her shoulders, and yanks her flailing hands behind her, tying them quickly.

She starts to kick instead. He sits on her legs while he ties her ankles together, and she screams in frustration and fear. "Let go of me," she hisses over and over. "Let me go!" He makes the mistake of putting his hand over her mouth to shut her up. She bites him hard, and pain shoots through his hand. When he looks down, he realizes that even though she has a hood, she's drawn blood.

She will be difficult to keep. They will have to tie her and lock her in the room so she doesn't escape. Suddenly he wants Friday to come sooner than ever before. Friday they'll be paid, and they'll move on to their next target.

Eric finally stops, and he yanks her up, making sure that she can't struggle. They carry her inside. There they have masks they will use so that they can reveal her face for the ransom videos.

There is a room, with a cot and four blank, white walls. The walls don't reach all the way to the ceiling, which is twenty or thirty feet up and covered in tubes and beams. The light is gray and clinical, making the place look eerie. They put her on the cot, and she stiffens, preparing to fight again.

They yank the hood away from her face, and she sees black masked faces and gloved hands, and long sleeves. She can hardly even make out their skin color—they planned it that way. "What do you want with me?" she asks hoarsely. The redness of her face indicates she's been crying.

"We know who you are," Eric says. "Your father owes us. We're going to make sure he pays, or else you will."

She heaves a sigh. "I can't believe this is happening."

* * *

><p>She stares blankly at the ceiling above her, laying with her wrists tied together and her ankle cuffed to the metal footboard of the cot. He comes in to bring her breakfast, but she doesn't acknowledge him. When he comes for lunch, she hasn't touched her breakfast.<p>

"You need to eat."

"Not hungry."

"You better eat," he says threateningly.

"I said I'm not hungry." she says flatly. "Do you want to clean my vomit today? Didn't think so. Go away."

He places the tray and takes the first one, exiting the room and locking it. Some part of him is irked that she thinks she can talk to her kidnapper that way, but most of him likes her attitude. She has fire.

He prays that Prior pays up.

* * *

><p>"Read the card," he growls in her ear. She is sitting in the chair, her upper arms tied to the chair so that she can hold the large card in her hand.<p>

He has a pistol in his pocket, and he pulls it out, flicking off the safety.

She watches him, her eyes blank with disinterest. "You want your money. You aren't going to shoot me."

"I will if we don't get our money, and we won't get our money if you don't read the damn ransom card."

She sighs and turns to the camera about six feet away from her. She clears her throat, and her hands shake just a little bit. "We have your daughter," she whispers. At a glare from one of the men, she starts over, louder. "We have your daughter. You will pay Dauntless by the end of this Friday or..." her voice breaks off and her hands shake again. "Or we will kill her."

She swallows as she ends the note. Not looking up.

For fun, he pulls the trigger on the gun, right next to her ear.

She jumps, but it only clicks.

He laughs at her as she releases a trembling breath, tears pouring down her cheeks. "This isn't happening," she whispers. "This _can't _be happening."


	2. Anger

_He laughs at her as she releases a trembling breath, tears pouring down her cheeks. "This isn't happening," she whispers. "This can't be happening."_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2: Anger<strong>

* * *

><p>They returned her to her room, shoving her down on the bed roughly and tying her down without much care for her wellbeing.<p>

She curled on to her side as best she could. They put a gag in her mouth and tied her hands behind her this time, and she realized with fear that they were leaving her.

The door clicked shut, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Her fear is changing, morphing, from one monster, to a completely different one.

She yanks uselessly at the ropes that bind her wrists back.

"What do you think you're doing?"

His voice doesn't startle her like he'd hoped, and he wonders why.

He gets his answer when she growls, "Leave me alone." Her voice is muffled by the gag.

"I can't do that."

"Too bad," she snaps.

"You're aware that you're smartmouthing a guy that can kill you, right?"

"I don't give a shit. You aren't going to kill me, you need the money."

He growls and she flinches when the door opens violently.

She still has the gag, so her yelp when he yanks her out of the bed and propels her through the door. He drops her in the chair, and she realizes that the camera is on. The realization lasts a split second before she finds herself flying off the chair. Her vision flashes with brilliant color. She lands hard on her wrist, the pain making her cry out. She's not even done before he's yanking her up by her hair. He drives something—his knee, maybe—into her gut, and she groans.

She's on the ground and he's kicking her. She's not crying or screaming, though. She's cursing him, the white rag in her mouth soaked with spit and blood. He kicks at her harder to shut her up. Then he realizing that he's doing to her what his father did to him, and he forces cool water to put out the fire of rage in his veins. He makes it pour soothingly into his mind. _He won't be like him. He won't. _

He turns to the camera and growls, "get the money" before stopping the recording. Then he pulls her up and hauls her back to her room.

* * *

><p>"I hate you," she mutters, but she doesn't object to the ice pack on her face, or the cool, soothing cloths cleaning the blood away from her hands and cheeks.<p>

"I'm sorry," he says. He really means it, too. He didn't mean to lose control like that.

"What's your name?" she asks.

"Why do you want to know?"

"So that I know whose name to curse the next time you touch me," she snaps.

He laughs a little bit. "Four. You can call me Four."

"Well fuck you, Four."

"Fuck you too..."

"Tris."

"Fuck you too, Tris."

She glowers at him, and the effect is lessened by her eye, which is sore and blooming with dark purple bruises. It will be completely black in the morning.

"You shouldn't piss people off that can kill you."

"You shouldn't be someone that can kill me."

"But I am. So don't piss me off again."

"Fuck you, Four," she says.

He just sighs.


	3. Bargaining

"_You shouldn't piss people off that can kill you."_

"_You should be someone that can kill me."_

"_But I am. So don't piss me off again."_

"_Fuck you, Four," she says._

_He just sighs._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: Bargaining<strong>

* * *

><p>The others return, take a look at him applying ice to her face, smirk, and leave them. One of them mutters about having a turn tomorrow, but he glares at them and they leave.<p>

He leaves her for the night, and someone else is with her during the next day.

"Are you sure _he _has to stay? I could stay. She already knows me. She might try to escape him."

"Nice try," Eric says flatly. "We have videos to deliver, especially after your little performance yesterday."

"She was a pain in the ass," he grunts.

"So are you," Eric retorts.

"If I go, I might fuck this up, you know. I've never delivered the ransom video before."

"If you fuck this up, you'll catch a bullet from the lot that she'd catch."

"Funny."

"Not trying to be. Now hurry up."

Four shrugs. At least he tried. Why is he trying to stay with this girl anyway? Why is she different? Other than finding a way to get all over his last nerve, something no one has been able to accomplish since he left his father to join Dauntless...

Dauntless is his home now. He can't fuck this up. Not even for her.

* * *

><p>When he gets back, she is laying facing the wall, her back toward him. He relieves Rock, making sure he locks the door after he leaves.<p>

"You could stop this, you know." Her voice blank, void of life and empty of emotion.

"Even if I could, I won't," he says. "I'm getting paid to babysit you. Quite a lot, actually."

He watches her. Her hands are still tied behind her back, and her wrists are raw and bloodied, but she doesn't seem to notice. He asks for a first aid kit and handcuffs, which is brought to him. He uses antibiotic ointment before carefully wrapping her wrists in gauze before cuffing her hands instead of the rope.

She stares at the wall still, but her tone has changed now. "Why are you here? You beat me up but you put ice on my bruises. You walk in and see me cut up and you... do first aid? What kind of kidnapper are you?"

He sighs, swallowing. "I don't know, I guess."

"You could let me go."

"No I couldn't."

"You don't want to be here, if you did, you'd be an asshole like the rest of them."

"If I let you go, they would kill me."

"Would that be so bad for you?"

He grits his teeth. "You don't know anything."

"I know enough. Please... let me go. You don't really want to kill me."

"Right now, I really do."

"Then why don't you?"

"Because if I bide my time, I'll get paid to shut you up instead of letting you goad me into it," he snaps.

"What good is your blood money for anything other than being on the run with your gang of kidnappers?"

He sighs. "What do you want from me?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"I thought you wanted me to let me go."

Then her first tear falls. "I'm not so sure anymore."


	4. Depression

"_I thought you wanted me to let me go."_

_Then her first tear falls. "I'm not so sure anymore."_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: Depression<strong>

* * *

><p>"What do you mean?" he asks with a frown.<p>

She sniffs. "It's not like I have someone to go home to anyway."

He frowns at that. Does that mean that he'll have to kill her? What if no one pays her ransom?

She releases a sobbing breath, but her next one strangles in her throat. "My mother and father don't love me. My brother is gone. I have no one."

"You realize..."

She sniffs. "I don't care anymore. I don't want to live alone."

He knows that feeling well. "Will you tell me about them? Your family, I mean."

She lifts a shoulder in a shrug, maneuvering to face him for the first time in the conversation. She winces at her painful wrists, and he helps her get comfortable again, almost instinctively. Tears drip on to his hands and arms as he helps her sit and then lay down again.

She tells him that she left home because she didn't want to be like them, and that they stopped loving her after that. She tells him that her father is greedy and slimy, and that she hates him.

"I don't want his stupid money to save my life. I'll save myself or let you shoot me. I don't need him to rescue me."

He doesn't know if her attitude is brave or stupid, but he realizes that the emotional impact of her situation is catching up with her in a bad way. "If he saves you," he starts, but she cuts him off.

"If he saves me then I'll owe him. And I'd rather owe you people than him."

"What makes him so awful that you'd rather owe your life to a gang?"

She sniffs, and more tears fall from her eyes. "He never loved me or my brother. He just... went after all his money and political agenda... and he did the slimiest things to get where he is, and he never once thought to protect us. When my brother..." she chokes out a soft sob, and he feels the strange urge to comfort her. He's never wanted to comfort his... _merchandise_... before.

Why is this girl getting under his skin? How many others have cried and begged? But no... she didn't beg. Maybe that's why she's different. She wants to be brave. He'll comfort her if it helps her be. He's not sure why he cares if she's brave or if she's not. But she seemed special to him, ever since the first day. He sincerely hopes he doesn't have to kill her, but with each word and tear that wrenches itself from her soul, the possibility is dimmer and dimmer.

She's alone in the world. She has nobody except for him... her executioner.

Jesus.

She cries herself to sleep, and he watches her, his mood as dark as the room that surrounds them.

* * *

><p>The next day, she's morose and refuses her breakfast again.<p>

He's surprisingly gentle to her. He wants to hear about her, to dispel the dark cloud that hangs over her. He asks her to talk about her job, and that makes her glare as the tears fall. "I don't have one. I got fired two days before this all started. I wouldn't sleep with the manager so... the sluts that did got promoted, got the seniority... when they downsized, I was out."

"That's so low."

She scoffs. "I know." More tears. "I don't even have a job to get back to. I'm pathetic."

"You aren't," he says gently. "You're... you're brave. Be brave. Okay?"

She looks up at him then, a strand of hair sticking to the tears on her face. "Why should I be? Who will be waiting for me when this ends?"

"A stronger you than in the beginning."

She snorts, and her shoulders slump. "No," she shakes her head, and more sobs rise in her chest. "I know my father. There is nothing waiting for me when this ends."

He swallows.

"He's not going to pay for me, is he?"

He is silent, and she sobs for a long time.


	5. Acceptance

"_He's not going to pay for me, is he?"_

_He is silent, and she sobs for a long time._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: Acceptance<strong>

* * *

><p>It is Thursday. Tomorrow, they will either get paid, or she will die. She knows the day is coming, and her sorrow has given way to bleak recognition.<p>

She eats very little. He is worried, but he doesn't say anything. What could he say to her? There's a good chance she'll die tomorrow, anyway.

She is sitting up, leaning against the wall when he walks in. he doesn't bother making sure the door is locked; she won't try to escape, she knows she can't.

"Are you alright?"

"I think... I think I know what I want," she whispers. "I know what I want from you." when she looks at him, her blue-gray eyes are shining, and a single tear glistens on her cheek.

"What's that?" he asks, and his voice comes out in a rough whisper.

"I've... there are so many things I wanted to do," she says, sniffling. "I wanted to tour the world, fall in love..." she swallows. " But I sort of did that already," she mumbles, and her face is bright pink as she looks away, dipping her head so he can't see her face.

He swallows. She isn't... is she?

"I want you to make love to me," she says.

Yes she is. Oh... fuck.

"Why?" he asks, his bewilderment not quite captured in his tone—it is too big for that small word.

"Because nobody has ever loved me before, and I want to know what that would feel like before I die."

"I..."

She swallows. "Please," she says roughly. "You've been kinder to me than anyone would have expected. Even though... there were moments... I am glad that I... I mean, I'm glad it was you."

"Me too," he says, and he means it.

"Then please do this for me. Love me, before I die."

He feels his hands tremble, the prickle of numbness starting in his fingers as he steps across the room... it only takes three steps to cross the small space. He leans down, resting one knee on the bed, and presses his lips to hers.

Her lips breathe life into him, and he imagines it to be liquid life, flowing through every blood vessel and capillary. Her breaths mix with his, and he pulls life deep into his lungs. She sighs with relief, and he knows she feels the life too. It seeps into his skin when he finally allows himself to touch her, the way the heat from a cup of tea sinks its warmth like tentacles into freezing hands. He wants her to feel this too. He isn't apprehensive about letting her out of the handcuffs. He just tries to give her the moment of life she craves, the moment he finds himself craving too.

Her hands push his shirt away, and he raises his arms for a moment before he slips his arms out of it and throws it somewhere. He carefully does the same for her, and the tentacles of heat sink into the planes of his stomach as she presses herself to him. His hands travel over her skin, and their fingers intertwine.

Their fingers intertwine, and their lips fuse, and their bodies are melting together, like wax heated by fire, slowly burning away the distinctions between them.

They burn together as they fall apart.

* * *

><p>He spent all of Friday with her, memorizing her skin, the flecks of color in her eyes, the way her hair caught the light. At night, he dressed, and she did too. The silence was eerie and deafening. She shuddered when she saw him pick up his holster and attach it to his belt.<p>

He cuffs her hands again, and his face is blank, his posture stiff. He leads her to a van... he has to, because she is blindfolded again. The door closes, and they drive.

When she can see again, it's dark. The digital clock inside the van reads 2:13 am.

Eric pulls her from the van roughly, and she stumbles as he forces her to kneel. Somebody else sets up the camera.

Four kneels with her, and he's surprised at how tight his throat is. She meets his gaze squarely, but her face is slack. Her eyes water, and he draws a trembling breath as he stands. Tears spill freely from both of their eyes, but neither of them cry.

He raises his gun, and it trembles in his hands. "Be brave," he whispers.

She keeps her eyes on his until he pulls the trigger.


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

* * *

><p>"You okay? You were having a nightmare."<p>

"Yes," he mumbles, sitting up. He wipes at his face, and his hand comes away wet.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No." His hand is still shaking, and he can still feel the cold metal of the gun in his hands.

"Want me to distract you?" she whispers, her finger trailing between his pecks.

He lays back, smiling a little. "Yes."

"It was just a dream, you know," she says, her eyes concerned again.

"I know," he says. His fingers trace the flight of the blackbirds on her collar bone before curling into her hair. "You're still here. It was just a dream." The birds weren't even on her skin in his dream. He kisses them, very glad they are there now.

"I will always be here," she says gently.

He smiles again as she kisses his lips and his cheeks. "Get to distracting, woman," he teases, as his smile turns into a playful smirk.

She grins as he pulls the sheets over them. He closes his eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah, Four's mind is a little dark. but, he did just get out of prison for a murder he didn't commit, so... i would guess his mind would be entitled to some darkness... some <em>dauntlessness. <em>****anyway, more from With Dauntless Abandon soon. **

**mandatory legal stuff:  
><em>Divergent<em> and all recognizable characters belong to Veronica Roth. no profit is being made from posting this story. This plot, however, does belong to me, so please message me for permission before reproducing or translating part or all of this fiction as per the rules of the website.  
>this story was not posted to condone or encourage violence.<strong>

**thanks for your time. let me know what yall think about his nightmare.**

**-temporary insanity**


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